


The Taste of Mercy

by Venutian



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Belly Rubs, Gen, Giant/Tiny, Macro/Micro, Protective, Shrinking, Stuffing, Vore, bloated belly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 06:56:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20131216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venutian/pseuds/Venutian
Summary: The Fires of Pompeii vore AUDuring the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 CE, the Doctor has to resort to desperate measures in order to rescue the Roman Family from a fiery death.





	The Taste of Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> The third and final episode AU I have written or planned.
> 
> Originally posted on my DeviantArt (@venutian) April 2019. I've decided to upload my vore fanfics here as well, both as a backup and to reach a wider audience.
> 
> Visit me on DeviantArt for earlier uploads, research notes/commentary on the completed work, and updates on fics in progress. I'm always willing to consider prompts!

The Doctor had caught a glimpse of the Roman family as Donna and he had rushed back to the TARDIS and he had known even then how close they were cutting it. That it was only a matter of minutes—seconds perhaps—before everyone in the town of Pompeii would be dead. Reduced to a story, the archaeological discovery to captivate millions in the future. That was the way it was meant to be, whether he liked it or not. But then Donna had gone and convinced him to save the family, to show a little mercy, a little humility. That was how he’d ended up back in Lobus Caecilius’ home, arm outstretched, ready to cart the Humans to freedom. 

None of them were conscious. It was surprising, how much could change in the… what, a little more than a minute that he’d been gone? They’d been huddled together against one of the walls of their home, making them the perfect target for a falling column. Must’ve rocked free during the volcanic tremors and hit them all over the head. The Doctor could see that they were still breathing though, so considering the circumstances, things could be a lot worse. With the impending heat wave, however, he’d have to get the entire family to the TARDIS medical facility quickly. But how? He could only carry one at a time and, as he swept his eyes over Caecilius’ lengthy frame, he knew they wouldn’t exactly all be quick trips.

Would it be possible to make them easier to carry? He couldn’t make an air tunnel and adjust the gravity; that would just make him lighter too and it’d be hard to build up momentum. Besides, with their potential concussions, he wasn’t sure if a change in air pressure or atmospheric conditions would hurt them. The last thing he wanted was to worsen the situation. Every second of indecision was one second closer to the family slipping away, their chances of getting out before the true eruption deteriorating right before his eyes. Emergency situations called for ‘Plan Z’ solutions. Well… maybe more like ‘Plan X’. Or ‘Plan Q’. Anyways, it was low on the list. If he could reduce their physical size, he’d be able carry them into the medical facility all in one trip. He’d done the calculations out one time when he was bored and so theoretically the idea should work. There wasn’t any time to do anything else.

The Doctor shrank the Roman family by exposing them to a beam of dimensional energy he’d siphoned from the TARDIS. He made sure to reduce the air around them as well so that the molecules would be small enough for them to breathe. And it worked! It really, truly worked. The math had all checked out when he’d calculated it, but in practice… sometimes things went a bit haywire. So, it was with no shortage of relief that he looked down upon the Humans slumped against the wall. No lost limbs, nothing had gone disproportionate, nobody had been torn apart by the dimensional energy. Perfect.

Or maybe not so perfect, because the little Romans didn’t end up quite as little as he’d hoped. Caecilius was the largest one and he was taller than the Doctor’s palm was long; just over fifteen centimeters—six inches—if he could trust his eyes. It was with dismay that the Doctor realized he still couldn’t carry them all at once. He could certainly try, but what if one slipped and fell from his arms? What if, in an attempt to counteract the possibility of falling, he squeezed them too tightly during his dash for the med bay? What if he carelessly tripped and landed on their tiny forms? No, no. There were just too many risks. And yet, despite the Doctor’s inability to commit to the plan, the family’s health continued to deteriorate. A few more minutes and they’d probably be beyond even his help.

It struck him then that there was something he could do—something he had done before but not in a very long time. There were… certain… organs that were known for converting food into energy. And the reverse was also true; due to the dense network of blood vessels lining the stomach, energy could also be leaked back into food. Regeneration energy. Not enough to heal but enough to sustain life, enough to keep something or someone stable until he could get proper medical treatment. It’d be a bit tricky since he wasn’t undergoing active regeneration, but there’d be some residual energy floating around. Probably enough. _Hopefully_ enough.

Ok, so that was it then. He would swallow the Romans and let his own system act as a temporary life support. Could he? Physically, that was? Two of them would feel snug. Three was pushing it, but he could probably manage. But four? Four was just stupid. Out of the question. But he… he couldn’t just leave one or more of them behind. It was not only cruel, but anyways how would he possibly be able to choose between them? No, no, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. It was all of them or none of them, so all of them it would have to be. Even if it hurt, even if it was stupid. He had to. Unfortunately, he'd discovered a while ago that his stomach was only about two-thirds the size of a Human one, likely attributed to the fact that he needed to consume much fewer calories than they did to survive. Plus, he had all those other organs and organ ‘duplicates’ in there that needed the real estate. He’d always thought a smaller stomach was handy, especially in survival or long-term travel situations. Now, however, he could only think of it as a curse.

The Doctor got down onto his knees in front of the miniaturized family, careful of where he was putting his lanky limbs. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally crush one of them because of his own clumsiness. It was a strange sort of feeling, looking down at them and trying to imagine how they were all going to fit inside his stomach. It was going to be a challenge for sure. He figured he may as well start with the largest one—Caecilius—just to get the most difficult one over with.

He reached down and carefully pinched the fabric of Caecilius’ robe between his thumb and forefinger, lifting tiny body up and untangling those long limbs from those belonging to the other family members. The Roman’s head hung limply forward as the Doctor raised his hand to his face, closing the gap between them. He felt sorry that he had to swallow them while they were unconscious. It didn’t feel right. Imagine if they were to wake up—either during the process or even after—and the panic that would follow. He’d feel just horrible. But it was for their own good and surely even if they did wake up (which was unlikely), they would understand that, surely they would not resist a life-saving procedure. Surely not.

Lifting Caecilius higher than eye level, the Doctor tilted his head back so that his mouth was aligned with the dangling body. It was a clear shot from there. He lowered the smaller man towards his gaping maw, tongue shifting reflexively as Caecilius feet bushed the surface. The smaller man’s legs slid right down the Doctor’s tongue, easing into his throat. He tightened his grip on the man’s cloak as the Roman was lowered deeper and deeper, not wanting to drop Caecilius before he was ready and end up choking or something. It was difficult to stop himself from coughing the tiny body back up as the legs tickled the back of his throat, but the Doctor knew that Caecilius would never fit in his mouth the traditional way. It wasn’t long before he could release his hold on Caecilius completely, withdrawing his fingers and holding the man in place with his tongue. The Roman’s shoulders filled the width of his mouth and the Doctor was dreading the rough passage. He waited like that for a minute, head tipped completely back and Caecilius cradled in his mouth, letting the spit build up in his mouth. Maybe it’d help the passage. It was likely that the Roman was going to stick several times on the way down anyways, but he could at least give it a running start.

Honestly, now that they were in this position, the Doctor didn’t mind having the Roman unconscious for this part. There was no uncomfortable squirming, no panicked scrambling to escape, no accidentally pushing against the soft spots in his mouth or kicking at anything sensitive. There was nothing prickling at his swallow reflex or activating any latent predator instincts that would urge him to swallow before he was ready. Just… simple. The smaller body was relaxed and soft and warm, like the first gulp of cocoa after a long night of stargazing. Quite lovely, actually. But there were three more on the way, so he couldn’t linger for long.

Suppressing the gag reflex was always a challenge when swallowing something so large, but the Doctor was nothing if not the master of his own body. Mind over matter. Closing his eyes, the Time Lord loosened his tongue, easing the pressure that’d been holding Caecilius in place. One swift gulp, and the little Roman was sucked fully down into his esophagus.

The Doctor groaned quietly to himself as the pain flared up in his throat at having to stretch wide enough to accommodate Caecilius’ form. Despite this, he traced his fingers over the lump traveling down, down, deeper into his digestive tract, feeling the Roman from both the inside and outside of his skin. Caecilius stuck for the first time at the base of the Doctor’s throat, right at his collar. All he could do was grimace, loosen his tie, cough once to dislodge the blockage, and then swallow again. This time, he managed to push the smaller man down into his chest. Another swallow, and Caecilius was traveling down again. It was an odd, sort of painful sensation as the Doctor’s insides shifted to accommodate the large mass, but of course it was only temporary so it was hard to complain.

It was a relief when he finally got Caecilius down into his stomach, the weight easily sliding down and settling at the bottom of the organ. It provided the Doctor with a nice full feeling; not stuffed, but casually refreshed, like after a light breakfast. He kneaded his belly with his hands, working the tiny body into a flat, laying position to maximize the space left in there. Probably the Roman family would end up as a sort of limb Tetris once they’d all gotten in, but it’d be better for their own sake if he could get them to stack neatly.

Metella, Caecilius’ wife, was laying practically on top of her children—her arms wrapped around them—so it was only natural that she should go next. Her smaller, thinner frame would a welcome change from the last figure. At normal height, she had only been five inches shorter than Caecilius. Scaled down, it really wouldn’t be make that much of a difference, but any bit helped. The Doctor very carefully reached down and picked Metella up around her middle, holding most of her in his fist. The woman’s head flopped back limply, almost unnaturally. He quickly brought another finger up behind her to support the Roman’s neck, not wanting her to get hurt or even end up stiff from the process.

The Doctor tilted his head up, although not completely as he’d done for Caecilius. He raised his two hands, still cupped around Metella, to his face in one sweeping motion. And without further hesitation, gingerly placed her legs inside his mouth. The back of Metella’s thighs brushed against the Doctor’s lower incisors and even though there was a layer of protective fabric, he had to remind himself to slow down a little, to make sure he wasn’t scraping away any skin. While unconscious, the smaller beings weren’t able to protect themselves against him. They couldn’t steer themselves clear of his teeth and they couldn’t keep their limbs from getting twisted around either in his mouth or on their way down, and they couldn’t tell him if something felt wrong or painful. He’d just have to do his best to be mindful.

As he eased Metella’s lower half towards the back of his mouth, the Roman’s clothing began to be soaked through with spit and grow heavy on his tongue. It was sort of soggy, but he didn’t mind. It didn’t taste so- wait! What was that? Tongue flexing, eyes pinching momentarily shut as he got a taste of something metallic, something tangy and a bit unpleasant. Like licking a coin. The Doctor realized it must be the embellished belt Metella had been wearing. Couldn’t be helped, but best not to linger too long. The Doctor picked up the pace then, cramming the rest of the miniaturized woman into his mouth and suppressing his swallow reflex as her feet were forced down into his throat. For a moment, Metella’s head was balanced right on the tip of his tongue and he held his mouth open, feeling around with his fingers just to ensure nothing got clipped by his teeth.

And then he let her slide down a little further, slowly lifting his tongue to his hard palette. The Doctor could feel her delicate facial features against the rubbery flesh of his palette and he was sure then not to apply too much pressure, as well as leave a little pocket of air so that Metella would not suffocate. And then he was ready, and he hoped in some way she was ready, because there was little time to lose. He swallowed, the powerful muscles of his throat closing in around Metella’s form. Once again, he brought his fingers to his neck as the small body passed through, fascinated and a little enamored with the idea of a living person being safely transported down into his stomach.

Soon, Metella eased into his belly, adding a nice weight to the already occupied space. He gave a brief sigh of contentedness; the tight fullness really was lovely and it sent a warm tingling feeling through his nerves, like he’d just finished a hearty meal. Well, the body heat from the Humans probably added to that warmth. But it really was comfortable. The Doctor felt around a little with his hands, trying to check in on the pair. They seemed ok. He could feel the expanding and contracting of their lungs against the lining of his stomach, so that was a good sign. His stomach itself was starting to catch on to what was happening and it didn’t seem all that happy about it, occasionally squeezing at the occupants and trying unsuccessfully to break down the Romans inside. It was a bit bothersome but nothing he couldn’t handle.

Well then. That just left two little Romans to go. Quintus was slumped with his arms loosely over his sister’s form, so he may as well be next. After the trouble he’d had getting Caecilius down, the Doctor thought maybe it’d be better to swallow Quintus headfirst, so that the widest point would lead the way. Hopefully that’d mean less getting stuck. Whether or not that would actually be the case… well… it couldn’t hurt, could it? In any case, it wasn’t like the Roman could complain about it.

The Doctor carefully picked Quintus up, grabbing him by the shoulders with one hand and then depositing the man into his free palm. Swallowing him headfirst certainly was a bit of a challenge as far as holding the Roman was concerned. Dangling Quintus by his legs or ankles could injure the small body and anyways it was still important that their heads didn’t flop about. So that was out of the question. The Doctor used his fingers to roll Quintus onto his front on the Doctor’s palm, making sure to turn the little head onto its side so that the Roman wouldn’t suffocate.

He brought his hand to his face, holding Quintus steady. Without further hesitation, he licked Quintus out of his palm, scooping the man’s head and upper chest up onto his tongue in one swift motion. Tilting his hand forward, the Doctor worked his tongue around the smaller body so that he could bear the Roman’s weight in his mouth. After the burden was off his hand, he could slowly push Quintus further inside. He could feel the Roman’s face sliding against his tongue, the details of the face carved into the muscle. Quintus’s legs still stuck out a little and the Doctor didn’t want to risk swallowing yet, lest he involuntarily push the limbs against his teeth. The Time Lord tilted his head back and let gravity do the work for him, making sure not to let Quintus slip down his throat before he was ready. As with Caecilius, the Doctor wanted to build up a bit of spit before swallowing, in order to ease the journey.

The Doctor was able to close his lips, sealing the little Roman inside. Even though it was his third Human that day, it really was an unusual sensation to be holding a living creature right in his mouth and it was unlikely to be something he could get used to. This was not just a living creature though, it was a higher life form, a sentient, rational alien that he’d actually spoken to only hours before. The Doctor could feel the rise and fall of the young man’s chest, could sense the warm puffs of air against his taste buds as Quintus breathed. The Roman was lying on his front so the Doctor could also feel the smaller man’s singular heartbeat, beating away slowly but regularly through the fabric of his dampened clothes. He was… so tangible. So alive.

The saliva was pooling around the Doctor’s tongue and it was only as Quintus’ breath hitched that the Doctor remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He didn’t want to drown the poor guy! The Time Lord closed his eyes, once again tilting his head back. He flattened the Roman to the roof of his mouth, careful to make sure that all Quintus’ limbs were accounted for. He gently swished the spit to the front of his mouth—away from the man’s face—and then he swallowed hard, pulling the small body down into his throat.

The Doctor had done a much better job preparing for this one and was pleased to find that Quintus stuck only twice during the journey down; once in the square of his chest and then again right before the entrance to his stomach, which was to be expected. His throat was beginning to feel quite sore at this point from stretched so wide so many times in succession. But then, his own minor discomfort was of little consequence if it came at the cost of saving four lives.

As the young man was finally deposited into the stomach, the Doctor let out a quiet gasp of pain. It was tight in there, too tight, uncomfortably tight. His stomach had to stretch to accommodate the accumulating bodies. It was almost a good thing that they were unconscious; moving, flailing limbs might’ve been too much. It was almost too much as it was. He had second thoughts about walking away but, as he gazed down at the tiny form of Evelina, he knew what he had to do.

“You are one lucky little Roman.” He sighed, reaching down to scoop up her form. She was lucky that he cared so much—lucky that Donna had insisted on witnesses. At his touch, Evelina roused a little, coughing and gasping for breath with her eyes still squeezed shut. Alarmed, the Doctor quickly put his fingers over her temples, concentrating his psychic energy and putting her back to sleep as delicately as he could. He knew he had to be careful; at that size he could easily overpower her natural defenses and steamroll right through her mind, turning memories to mush. It was then that the Doctor swore he felt a bit of movement within his stomach, although that could’ve also just been his natural processes. It was too hard to tell. Better not risk it. Still cradling Evelina, he moved his free fingers to his stomach, focusing on each individual member tucked inside. One by one, he ensured that they were asleep and that they would stay that way, not wanting them to wake up in there and end up panicking. He was already racing to come up with a way to explain it to Donna; there was no way he’d be able to explain it to four strangers he’d only barely met.

With all four Romans sound asleep, the Doctor could focus his attention back on Evelina. The headfirst strategy had seemed to work well with Quintus, so he decided to go for it again with this last one. He wanted to make it quick, just get it over with and be on his way, but Evelina deserved just as much thought and carefulness as the rest of them.

The Doctor brought Evelina to his mouth, re-positioning his hands so that he was holding the young woman by her waist. Still feeling eager to get on with it, he quickly eased her into his mouth, using his tongue as guidance. He could taste the residual time particles floating around Evelina and it made him smile a little. Extraordinary humans. Able to survive rifts in time and psychic torture and volcanic possession and all sorts of really nasty, horrible things. And they could get through it. Really, just incredible.

It didn’t take long for the Doctor to get Evelina’s body inside his and with one swift swallow, he was able to get her down. He remained on his knees as Evelina traveled towards her family, one hand on the floor and the other resting on his belly. He could feel her tiny form right above the entrance to his stomach and he swallowed once more, the ripple squeezing her into the tight space. The Doctor let out a soft whine as his innards were stretched once again to accommodate the new arrival, the pain shooting up as he was pushed well beyond what he assumed his limits to be. He’d been right before; four was just stupid and he was way too full. The Doctor’s breath came in short gasps as he waited for things to settle down in there. His stomach was kneading at the little Romans, still trying to break them down while also somehow slowly shifting the passengers into a more compact and manageable lump. Even through his clothing, he could feel the tightness of the skin of his abdomen, pushing against the fabric. Gingerly, he felt around his swollen midsection. His many layers of clothing actually hid the distortion fairly well; vertical stripes perhaps living up to their reputation of being slimming. Even so, there was a visible bump.

A low rumble shook the floor ever so slightly, breaking the Doctor out of his thoughts. There was no more time to lose, no more time left wasted on exploring the strange new and painful sensations. He had to go. The Doctor winced as he slowly stood, the movement pulling on his taut skin. The heat caused by the four Humans was almost unbearable; a white-hot fire that felt like it was burning him from the inside out. It wasn’t actually burning of course, but it was uncomfortable to say the least and moving had only exacerbated it.

He staggered towards the TARDIS, the heavy weight in his stomach getting sorely jostled with every step that he took. It was a relief when he finally made it in through the doors. Home sweet home. The Doctor braced himself on the railing by the entrance for a moment to catch his breath, grateful for the filtered air. Leaning forward felt strange, the heavy foreign weight not supported by his body as it had been before, instead pulling down on his abdomen and accentuating his belly bump. His stomach had given up on trying to break down the indigestible mass and had progressed to trying to get him to expel it. It wasn’t very often he got to experience nausea, so that was interesting, but not entirely pleasant. He swallowed back the bile, patting his stomach slowly in an attempt to quell it.

“Well? Where are they?” Donna! He’d almost forgotten. The Doctor looked up at the woman as her voice hitched, met her red-rimmed eyes. She’d circled the console to face him and was watching him warily, looking like she might break out crying again at any minute. “I thought you were going to get them!”

“Donna…” Speaking hurt, breathing hurt. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, a stabbing pain emitting from his stomach. It would’ve been easier to not have to explain it, to go straight to the medical bay and get all the little Humans fixed up. However, his companion wouldn’t let him do that until she understood what was going on. That much was very clear.

“You _promised!_”

“I have them.”

“What?” In response to this, the Doctor gestured to his stomach, pulling back the bottom flap of the suit jacket and standing up straight in an attempt to accentuate the bulge. “What’s that supposed to mean? Where are they?” Words were such a bother in this state. He simply pointed again to his belly, raising his brows and hoping she’d understand. It would’ve been funny if it weren’t for the situation. “In there?” Donna’s voice raised a couple of notes as she looked quickly between his face and his stomach. “You _ate_ them?”

“They were close to death. My natural regeneration energy will keep them steady—_alive_—until I can get proper treatment for them.” The long string of words had left him a little out of breath and he hunched back over a little, trying to find the least painful standing position. Donna was quiet and that was a bit unusual for her, but he wasn’t about to complain when there were more important things to do. The Doctor slowly brought himself over to the console, knowing fully well that Vesuvius was still erupting outside the TARDIS and although he was pretty sure she’d be just fine, it wasn’t worth taking the risk. “Let’s just get us out of here.”

Trying to operate the TARDIS stiffly and without jumping around wasn’t his usual style and admittedly it was difficult, but she seemed to be cooperating with him. Once they’d made it to space, the Doctor brought the TARDIS to a halt. He’d done it a bit too harshly and the entire console room jerked, sending him flying forward against the controls before he had a chance to catch himself. One of the corners of the console hit him square in the stomach and he made an audible shout of both pain and surprise. He quickly lifted himself back up, swallowing down the fresh wave nausea. His hands traced his belly carefully, feeling around to make sure everything was alright in there. It would’ve been horrible if he’d hurt the little Romans due to his own carelessness. Luckily, they seemed fine and they were all still asleep, so maybe he was a little more padded than everyone always gave him credit for.

“Are you going to get them out of there?” Donna finally asked, breaking the Doctor from his thoughts.

“What?” His mind raced, trying to process the question while recovering from the fact that she’d caught him massaging his belly. He knew it’d look weird to a Human. But she was looking at him only with concern and not disgust, so maybe he wasn’t giving her enough credit. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’ve got to make sure they’re alright first. And then I will.” They both just stood there for a moment, neither of them saying anything. “I should… probably go do that.”

“Yeah, I think you’d better.” A bit of teasing, which was nice after the little spat they’d had earlier. The Doctor nodded once, before turning and walking gawkily towards the interior doors of the TARDIS. “Doctor?”

“Hmm?” He hesitated by the door, wanting to bolt to the medical bay but owing it to Donna to answer whatever question she had. If it was about the process, however, he wasn’t sure he’d have the patience or time to try.

“Thank you.”

“You were right.” He said quietly, holding her gaze. Now didn’t seem like the right time to be doing this, but he owed it to Donna. “Sometimes I need someone. Welcome aboard.”

“Yeah.” She smiled, and it proved to be infectious, slipping up his own face as well. Neither of them said anything else and honestly, nothing else needed to be said. Donna nodded once, and the Doctor slipped away, out into the hallway and towards the TARDIS medical facility.

The Doctor had shrugged his jacket off before he’d even gotten to the medical bay, throwing it over a random counter once he’d gotten inside. He was slower to unbutton his suit jacket, as taking it off required a bit more stretching and moving around, which aggravated his stomach. His tie was already loosened so he could jump straight into removing the collared shirt he had on underneath, not even bothering to remove the tie completely. There was an immense sense of relief as he finally pulled his grey undershirt up over his bloated belly, fully exposing his tight skin for the first time. Now that he could see it plainly, the rounded belly was not so large as he’d initially perceived. An outsider probably wouldn’t even look twice; they’d just think he’d had a nice Christmas dinner. But it did stand out against his otherwise gaunt frame and as he twisted to look at himself in the med bay mirror, he couldn’t help but laugh at the strange sight.

Having his skin exposed only minimally eased the pain he was experiencing, but nothing further could be done until the Romans were healed. He ran a hand through his hair, leaning against one of the counters in the room and mentally going through everything he had to get done. It seemed like a lot. Honestly, all he really wanted to do was lie down and take a nap. But that could wait.

He walked around the room, gathering everything he needed and calibrating the medical devices he had onboard to scan each of the little bodies. The Time Lord was pleased to find that the Humans were, for the most part, completely unharmed. Healing them was a quick fix. Most of the damage had been done to their brains, but the concussions were only minor, and his advanced medicine was more than capable enough to deal with that.

Once he was satisfied that the Humans were taken care of, the Doctor could tend to some of his own woes. He fetched a localized pain-reducing gel for his stomach. It’d be faster-acting than a pill and anyways he wasn’t keen on swallowing anything for a while. The Time Lord pulled himself into the med bay seat, something akin to a dentist’s chair but more comfortable. He’d jumped into it a little too quickly and his stomach punished him sorely for that, aching as ever. That wouldn’t last much longer. Once he’d gotten himself settled into the chair, the Doctor removed the cap from the tube of gel and squeezed some of the thick, translucent substance out onto his exposed and rounded belly. He began to tenderly massage the sticky substance over his taut skin, making an effort not to press in on his full stomach but rather to trace his fingers lightly over the surface. Slick with the gel, his belly shone in the harsh lighting of the medical area. He continued to work the gel around even after the surface was covered, looking fondly at the area in which the Romans lie just beneath the surface. The pain had gone, as promised. Luckily, the gel hadn’t numbed his stomach entirely; he could still feel the pressure of the four Humans stretching out his gut, as well as the pleasant way the weight had settled on his spine. The gel had also taken away some of the burning heat, leaving it as a comfortable warmth.

The Doctor sunk his head into the back of the chair, breathing with relief now that things had settled down. When he’d first swallowed the shrunken Humans, he’d been able to tell who was whom inside of him. Now, however, he couldn’t differentiate between the bodies. He couldn’t pull apart in his mind the ebb and flow of their individual lungs, couldn’t tell which one or how many would twitch or shift a little in their sleep. Really, he couldn’t even tell where one of them ended and the next one started. They’d simply become one large, warm mass. Living, thriving inside of him. Incredible.

The encompassing feeling of being very full was causing the Doctor to feel very drowsy and he could feel his eyelids drooping, despite his mental protests. It seemed almost irresponsible to fall asleep, being as he was their protector. He had to ensure their safety at all times. Had to be ever vigilant. And what if they happened to wake up while he dozed off? It’d scare them half to death; they’d probably hurt themselves in a scramble to break free.

He had to settle instead for sitting there quietly, processing what had happened and making little mental notes about the sensations he’d experienced. The chair was able to recline a little so he made himself comfortable, knowing that he might be there for a while. The Doctor traced his hands absently along his bloated belly. The gel had been absorbed, leaving his skin soft and smooth to the touch. The pressure and weight of the Romans’ presence was surprisingly enjoyable and while he’d let them out eventually (of course he would!), he felt no particular rush to do so. The Humans were sleeping peacefully and everyone was out of danger. Vesuvius would be erupting for a while longer, so it wasn’t safe yet to go back even if they landed a distance away. And anyways, it was a time machine, wasn’t it? They could land whenever he wanted them to. It was no trouble at all.

**Author's Note:**

> It took me a few months to write this and yet I have no recollection of it so even I know it's not my best work and that's ok. I was trying out writing from pred perspective, and a few other new tropes. Author yoga! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
